Picking up the Pieces
by Leeroy's-Lover
Summary: Harry Potter didn't know what he feared most. 5th year was a bit late for a Boggart lesson, but Moody was set on it. How will Harry deal with a twist of events that let his classmates know his deepest fear? One he didn't even know himself? Non-canon compliant. AU-ish. First Story! Will continue if there's interest!
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was the golden child, a savior, the _chosen_ one. It was ingrained in his DNA to be afraid of his prophesized enemy.

It was defense against the dark arts class. Boggarts were on the lesson plan. 5th year was a little late to learn of Boggarts and such things of fear. It was on the curriculum for measly _third years_. But, from the ever shifting roulette of DADA teachers, this specific lesson had been pushed back for Harry's class year.

With a mixture of grunts and ill concealed terror, the gryffs and Slytherins lined up.

There was a fair share of monsters, some ghouls, a family member or two.

"Mr. Potter, I believe you are next." Moody grimaced at him from his stance as gatekeeper for the boggart. Harry smiled back, just a quick upturn of lips-before he steadied himself.

He didn't know what exactly he would be facing, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

Moody became serious as he opened the cupboard door once more. At first, nothing came out. The lights in the room became to dim, and the air suddenly got colder. Harry shivered-naught from cold, but from anticipation. His heart was racing and for a wild, hopeful moment he was certain a dementor would appear.

No dementor appeared-something, far, far worse.

A sibilant hiss rang clear through the classroom, creating barrier of silence. Harry stared into the abyss of the cupboard…. And the abyss stared back.

A pale, bare foot stepped forth from the shadows, bringing with it a black clad, terrifying, man. Lord Voldemort stepped forth from the cupboard, all the while creating a high hiss from the depths of his throat. Harry froze at the sight, he zeroed in on his prophesied enemy and the world fell away.

" _Harry Potter_ ," Lord Voldemort spoke in a high, dangerous voice. Mirth gleaming in his red, red eyes. "It seems that _I_ am your greatest fear, how… quaint." Lord Voldemort began to move, while everyone else-including Harry-stayed frozen in equal parts fear and mesmerisation. His slow, precise movement caused harry to swallow, his throat clicking from the sudden dryness. Just as Lord Voldemort motioned to speak again, Professor Moody shouted out.

"Ridikkulus!" He spit the word as if it were the killing curse. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild. The hex did nothing.

Time crystallized in that moment, freezing all who were in the presence of the Dark Lord.

"Ah, ah, ah, now Alastor… That wasn't very polite," Voldemort stopped his gliding steps in front of Harry Potter. He stooped low, to make eye contact, but was careful not to touch. He tilted his serpentine head to the side and looked directly into the eyes of his prophesied enemy.

"Besides," He all but whispered, "I am not what you truly fear, is it?" Voldemort stood and turned abruptly. "Well, not this version of me anyway." The sadistic mirth in his voice turned into a high, dark laugh. The sounds dimmed the lights even further, bringing even more chill into the classroom. Students stood petrified in fear.

Wind picked up in the classroom, rustling loose sheets of parchment, carelessly billowing students robes. The dark lord's laughter increased in volume and the wind picked up in speed. Soon enough a whirlwind encircled Voldemort and drowned even drowned out his unholy laughter. Candles blew out, students hair whipped about, only all to come to a complete standstill. The room was shrouded in darkness.

"I am who you truly fear." Gone was the high and cruel voice from earlier, in it's place was a deep and smooth baritone.

Footsteps echoed across the floor. One, two-three clicks of well polished shoes.

As the candles slowly came back to light, flickering uneasily at the danger in the room. There, stood a teen-aged Tom Marvolo Riddle in front of a pale, thunderstruck Harry James Potter.

There, in front of all of the Defense against the dark arts students, and professor Moody; Tom Riddle took one of Harry's shaking hands in his own and swooped low to place a kiss onto his knuckles.

"It is a pleasure to finally see you again… _Harry_." He smirked.

And with that, Harry James Potter, Gryffindor golden boy, savior of the wizarding world, _chosen_ one, fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

Hey all, thank you very much to all who reviewed! You guys are what fueled chapter two! *Blows kisses*

So I'm not too tech savvy and had some trouble with formatting. I'm also not too savvy in general, so let me know if the pacing sucks and I'll work harder on it.

Once again, you guys rock. Leave me some pointers/comments/questions and I'll get back to y'all

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry _was in the open field next to the black lake. It was a cloudless and chilly February night. Perfect for stargazing. He laid in the tall grass, his slytherin scarf wrapped tightly around his throat. He was laying next to another boy wrapped in the same colors as him._

" _Tell me more," Harry spoke quietly, his voice low from disuse. The warming charms him and Tom cast on their clothing worked wonders on his sore body. Tom must have felt the same sentiment and sighed peacefully before he continued with his astronomy lesson._

" _Do you want muggle or wizard?" He asked, voice smooth._

" _Muggle," Harry replied after a moment of thought. Tom had told him prophecy after prophecy and fact after fact of how wizards regarded the stars. He was like a textbook of information._

" _The muggles have this… theory," Tom started in, his voice steady. "That the stars we are looking at, every single one in the sky are… dead." He shook his head slightly at that. Closing his eyes once more_

" _That's insane," Harry ejected, his brows furrowing._

" _Honest, that's what they believe. This is dead light we are looking at. The wishes we've made, the prophecies in place, the Centaur's ceremonies… All are useless and void." Tom had a way of speaking that drew people in. His voice lilted and paused perfectly. Harry could understand the fascination people had with him. He'd even find it charming if the other wasn't such a git. "Think about it Harry, what if it were true? That our whole existence is based on dead lights. Something so tragically human."_

 _Tom was waxing poetic tonight, Harry mused. Spring was coming soon, and the other was loathe to admit but he hated the season._

" _Do you believe any of it? What the muggles say?" Harry asked casually, his green eyes flickering towards the pale boy next to him. Tom looked picturesque laying with his hands folded behind his head in the tall, frozen grass. His eyes were closed in concentration and small puffs of breath rhythmically appeared in the chilly air. He looked so human that it was hard for Harry to see him as anything other than a 16 year old boy. He couldn't bare to think of what would become of him…_

" _No." Tom responded after quiet contemplation. "There are few things in my life that I will ever agree upon with the muggles. Their nonsense about the night sky and lights trillions of years away from us will not be one of them." Harry snorted at the response, it was just so_ Tom _. They turned to smile at each other and lapsed into a peaceful silence. Long minutes were spent admiring the constellations, not thinking about what tomorrow would bring. Just the chill of the night air and clouds of breath were their present._

" _Do you think you'll be able to do it?" Tom broke the silence, becoming serious once again. Harry could feel the unease grow between them as he sighed. So much for a relaxing night._

" _I'm going to have to, am I not? What's the point of asking." He answered. He could feel Tom's gaze boring holes into the side of his head. He didn't turn to look. He didn't want to see what lay in his eyes tonight._

" _Just know," Tom started in slowly, quietly. "If you... break. I will be here to pick up the pieces."_

 _Harry's eyes widened as he turned to look at his…_

 _Friend?_

 _Enemy?_

 _Partner?_

 _Tom smiled slowly, as if he was reading the thoughts right from Harry's eyes alone._

" _Don't be going soft on me now,_ Harrison _." He chuckled and a self-satisfied smirked crinkled his eyes. Harry narrowed his in return and huffed._

" _I'm not going to fall apart just because of some memories, Tom" Harry was afraid but his old gryffindor courage would never let him admit it out loud._

" _Always so strong," Tom spoke, never taking his eyes off of Harry. "Be careful to not let your pride cripple you."_

 _Harry stared him down, his eyes demanding. The atmosphere around them grew dark with tension. Their focus on each other alone-the beauty of the night forgotten._

" _And what do you know of fear?" He asked sharply, the red of his face deepening from anger. Tom chuckled at the question, his mirth not meeting his eyes._

" _I know enough about fear to know that you're_ petrified _of me. With good reason, I may add." Harry was about to protest, but Tom continued to speak. "I applaud you for your fear though, most of the sheep here are too blind to realize they should be afraid." He smiled predatory._

 _Harry stilled at the sight, but refused to break eye contact. Silence encroached the two, thickening._

" _Can I trust you?" Harry asked suddenly, charging the air with tension. Tom narrowed his gaze and responded_

" _Of course," His smile genuine._

" _Liar," Harry countered_

 _Tom's face softened at the accusation._

" _I'm glad you know me so well."_

 _They both turned away at the honesty. Harry knew Tom well enough by now that he could trust him with his life, but nothing else. He felt safe knowing that Riddle would be the one to catch him if he fell tomorrow. But he didn't like the uncertainty of everything else that came with him._

 _So many contradictions made his head hurt to think about. Tom got to his feet and brushed himself off before offering Harry a hand._

" _Come now, Evans, you need your beauty rest." He winked and Harry allowed himself to chuckle. They let the tension wash away. They would save it for another time. Harry took the outstretched hand and stood._

" _Lead the way back, Riddle." He responded in turn. Tom turned and smiled sharply at his companion._

" _Someday, I'll never be known as that again." He promised this reverently, truthfully. Harry nodded in agreement as they started their way back to the castle._

 _Neither cast a_ lumos _to guide their way back. The pair walked closely with one another, lost in thought and comfortable with the proximity. To the untrained eye, it would look as if they were… friends._

* * *

Harry woke with a start in the hospital wing, his heart beating too fast and his face flushed. His dream was fading rapidly and he was trying his hardest to recall the fragments.

A boy with violet eyes. A promise?

" _I'll be here to pick up the pieces,"_

Harry shook his head and focused on calming himself instead. It was no use worrying over things he couldn't control. He could never remember his dreams.

He rubbed his eyes as Madam Pomfrey approached. She had a knack for knowing when he would wake. She levitated a calming draught and tea behind her. Harry yawned as her magic placed them on his bedside table.

"It's a little early in the semester for you to be here, Mr. Potter." She teased. Harry chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. "Worry not," she spoke as she turned to fix his bedding. "Drink some tea and take the draught with you for later tonight. The circles under your eyes are telling me that you've been lacking on sleep." Harry flushed in embarrassment as he realized his glamours fell during his fainting spell during Moody's class.

He smiled and took what he was offered. He left without a fuss back to his dorms.

* * *

He was unusually quiet for the rest of the day, as if the boggart of Tom Riddle Jr. had taken away his will to speak. He still got dressed with his roommates and ate breakfast with his house. He went to potions and care of magical creatures with the same enthusiasm as usual. He still listened to Ron and Hermione bicker. They (Merlin bless their hearts) mercifully left the topic of DADA alone. Not a single soul, slytherin or otherwise spoke to Harry Potter about what occurred in Professor Moody's classroom.

Harry went through the motions of his day, mindless and complacent. A shell of his former self. He could only hope rest would be salve for his wounds.

* * *

That night as he laid in bed for countless minutes, staring at the ceiling and thinking of his calming draught tucked away in his book bag, did he muster up the strength to utter a single word.

"Fuck"

He sighed deeply, rubbing a work worn hand over his face. He carded his hand through his hair roughly. Sighing again he sat up and opened the curtains of his bed. Making sure to keep quiet, he scanned the room to make sure everyone was sound asleep before he put his glasses on and grabbed his cloak. Ron was snoring per usual and he smiled slightly to himself. He knew what would bring him out of this funk.

.

Harry wrapped himself tightly in his invisibility cloak. He crept out of his dorm, then the common room, and through the castle undetected. He kept silent until he reached the room of requirement.

He didn't do this often, only when he was he was low and needed a boost to carry on. He never knew his parents other than the stories of them. That and the knowledge of his mother's love was enough to keep him going. His school year was off to a poor start. Cedric's death, quidditch, Snape, and classes were getting to be too much. Harry was resilient, but he was tired.

In his time of need he sought out comfort in the one place he knew he could always find it.

 _Bring me the Mirror of Erised_ he thought as he paced precisely three times. He wanted to see his parents. He wanted to belong, if only in a reflection.

He stepped into the room. It was cozy. A comfortable looking couch and a few armchairs sat around a blazing fireplace. In the center of the room stood the mirror of his desires. We walked quickly over to it, plopping himself down unceremoniously on the plush rug in front of said mirror. He pulled off the dusty covering with ease.

He smiled softly as he let the heat of the fire wash over him. His cloak of invisibility slid off his shoulders and he closed his eyes in relaxation. He sighed contentedly before setting his gaze upon the mirror.

It shimmered briefly, something it had never done before.

Harry furrowed his brow in concern. Was there something wrong with it?

He placed his hand on said mirror and looked deep into his own eyes.

The mirror shimmered once more and his own gaze was replaced with a different one staring back at him. He gasped at the change and scuttled back.

The figure-no, the _boy_ in the mirror just smiled and held his hand to where Harry's previously had been resting. As if he was reaching out to touch Harry himself. His eyes widened in shock and fear prickled down his spine.

Harry recognized this boy. From his clean cut robes, to his perfectly coiffed hair. The predatory smile and violet gaze belonged to the one and only Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry let out a cry of shock, this was his second time seeing him. The boy in the reflection stood and smiled fondly as he shook his head, just as if this were an everyday thing between him and harry.

Harry's shock quickly turned to rage. How dare he take away the only thing that brought him comfort. Why, in Merlin's name did the mirror show him this rubbish? Harry stood and stalked over to the mirror, his fists clenched and his face thunderous. Tom only folded his arms and smiled back. Harry looked the other up and down, filing away his stance and the robes he wore. He looked just like the Boggart from DADA class. His blood pulsed magma.

The mirror Tom saw his anger and had the audacity to _wink_.

Harry saw red.

One second later Harry had a bloody fist and shattered mirror in front of him.

As the mirror healed itself, it showed Harry a new scene. One where Tom and himself were lounging in the Slytherin common room. Harry's legs draped over Tom while they were talking. They had books and parchment splayed about as if they were studying. The happiness was palpable.

Harry screamed and punched the mirror again and again and again.

Each time it healed it showed him a new desire. Him and Tom talking. Him and Tom holding hands. Him and Tom dueling. Tom sitting sideways in an overstuffed armchair, simply reading.

His fist smashed against glass over and over and over. Tears of frustration pooled in the corner of his eyes as he crumpled in on himself. The next image the mirror showed was of one of Tom walking over to Harry in that very room and healing his broken hands. Kissing each knuckle and helping him off the ground. His tears fell freely at that visage, as his traitorous heart pounded with _want want want._

Harry stormed out of the Room of Requirement, taking his wand and putting it to his own head.

" _Obliviate"_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Harry Potter woke up the next day with a pounding headache and bloody knuckles. He laughed in exasperation. That was the third time this month.


End file.
